25
ELLIOTT
T he delicate jingle of the bell above the door announced our entrance as Jules and I stepped inside, his magnetic presence effortlessly filling the space with an undeniable allure that only he could command. He wore his casual elegance like an art form, a flowing, sun-bleached linen shirt casually tucked into perfectly cuffed jeans, with his signature scarf, a vibrant streak of color, adding a dash of irresistible flair. Standing there in my modest khaki shorts and a simple polo, I couldn't help but feel painfully ordinary in contrast, yet Jules’s eyes sparkled with unspoken delight, welcoming the warmth and energy that the bustling bakery radiated. It was early July, and over the past few weeks, Jules had found himself spending more mornings at my house, and our shared routine was slowly evolving into a natural, unspoken rhythm that neither of us dared to disrupt.
Inside Sweet Haven Bakery, the hot morning sun spilled exuberantly through the expansive windows, casting liquid streaks of summer across the polished wooden floors and igniting a shimmering dance over the glass display case. The space was filled with the delightful aroma of freshly baked bread mingling with sweet cinnamon and a rich, buttery scent that teased my senses and made my stomach churn in anticipation despite the breakfast I’d already savored. The gentle hum of hushed conversations blended with the occasional, friendly clink of ceramic mugs, creating an atmosphere of coziness and quiet charm that felt like stepping into an charming postcard of small-town life, familiar, comforting, and almost too perfectly orchestrated.
At that moment, Miss Audrey, the formidable owner of the bakery, raised her eyes from an artful arrangement of golden, flaky croissants. Her sharp, discerning gaze lit up as it fell upon us. With a presence as commanding as a summer storm, she exuded strength, her salt-and-pepper hair secured neatly into a no-nonsense bun and her flour-dusted apron telling stories of countless early mornings and diligent care.
“Well, well,” she intoned, her voice carrying confidently over the soft hum of conversation. “If it isn’t Havenwood’s newest lovebirds.”
Leaning casually against the counter, Jules’s grin morphed into a mischievous grin as he replied, “Lovebirds, you say? Miss Audrey, I think we deserve a title upgrade. Power couple actually has a pretty enthralling ring to it.”
I felt a flush of heat creep up my neck and quickly interjected, “What coffee flavors are featured today?” My voice carried both a nervous energy and a subtle plea to shift the teasing conversation away from our love story.
Undeterred, Miss Audrey leaned on the counter with a theatrical flourish, tapping her chin as if pondering a grand mystery. “Let’s see,” she drawled, “I’ve got hazelnut cream, caramel praline, cinnamon spice, and a house dark roast that’ll knock your socks clean off.”
Instantly, Jules’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Caramel praline for me, please. And make it extra hot.”
Adjusting my glasses with a small, grateful smile, I replied, “I’ll have the cinnamon spice, black, thank you.”
As Miss Audrey’s knowing smile deepened, she proceeded to fill our order, her practiced eyes dancing between us with a mix of warmth and playful mischief. At that exact moment, the espresso machine burst into a satisfying mechanical hum, and she artfully slid a plate brimming with vibrant, rainbow macarons across the counter. “On the house, because you two are simply too cute,” she declared with a twinkle in her eye.
Jules turned to me with a smirk that practically shouted, Told you so. “See? We’re famous,” he teased.
I couldn’t help but shake my head while suppressing a laugh, adjusting my glasses once more. “Infamous, more like it,” I quipped.
With a flourish befitting the moment, Miss Audrey returned, carefully setting down our coffee cups. Her wide grin conveyed genuine happiness as she added affectionately, “Whatever you call it, I’m so happy for you two.”
Jules’s smile broadened as he accepted her words, “We’ll take it.”
Grasping the warm coffee cups in my hands, I felt the gentle heat seep through, grounding me in the moment. Jules picked up the plate of macarons with a theatrical flair, popping one into his mouth as he held the door open for me. His eyes danced with mischief and a lingering sense of pride, as if to say, I told you so.
“Caramel praline was an excellent choice,” he remarked with a playful chuckle, his voice delightfully muffled by the sweet treat.
I rolled my eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips despite my best efforts to appear modest. Jules’s vibrant energy was utterly infectious, and even as Miss Audrey’s teasing words echoed in my ears, I felt lighter, free, and, perhaps, a little more receptive to the affectionate spotlight than I cared to admit.
Stepping out onto the sun-kissed street, bathed in a soft, magical morning glow that made every mundane detail shimmer with life, I felt a subtle thrill. Jules strolled closely beside me, his arm brushing against mine with every step, a deliberately gentle reminder of his presence that sent a blush of warmth through me.
“You really enjoy this, don’t you?” I asked softly, casting a sidelong glance at him as we walked, playful energy mingling with the morning light.
“Enjoy what?” he replied, his tone laced with a mock innocence, as he licked a lingering trace of macaron filling off his thumb with effortless charm.
Raising an eyebrow in feigned exasperation, I countered, “The attention. The teasing. All of it.”
He laughed, a bright, contagious laugh that mingled perfectly with the shimmering sunlight filtering through the canopy of trees. “It wouldn’t be half as fun without free macarons,” he said with playful nudging. “Besides, I think you secretly delight in it too.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but his unwavering confidence and infectious grin rendered my protest moot. And perhaps, in this small, wonderfully unexpected way, I did enjoy every moment, being seen, being part of something larger than myself, and simply, delighting in the presence of him.
Hand in hand, as we continued our leisurely stroll down the sun-dappled street, our fingers interlaced naturally and effortlessly, I allowed myself to lean fully into this day. The combined warmth of the coffee and his tender hand anchored me in a new kind of contentment, a blissful, serene feeling that whispered promises of more beautiful mornings yet to come.
Later that evening, The Rainbow Taproom pulsed with an effervescent energy that breathed life into every corner of the room. Neon lights danced wildly across the aged brick walls, sending cascades of color that played over the cheerful crowd like flickering brushstrokes on a vivid canvas. Near the dartboard, Jules was already engrossed in a lively conversation with a few of our closest friends. His magnetic energy and effusive gestures drew people in, each laugh and animated story pulling them closer like moths attracted to a vibrant flame.
I lingered by the bar, cradling a glass of amber whiskey that glowed warmly in the dim light. Flanking me were Sam and Callie, comfortably stationed on high stools as if they presided over the establishment. Callie swirled their cocktail languidly, the liquid catching glints of neon as they spoke with a dramatic flair. “You know, Teach, you’re kind of a big deal these days,” they declared, their voice mingling mischief with genuine admiration.
Sam’s smile widened into a conspiratorial grin as he leaned in, his tone imbued with playful mischief. “Power couple of Havenwood, you have to admit it. How does it feel to be basking in the spotlight?”
I took a measured sip of my drink, feeling the whiskey’s bold warmth ignite a subtle fire as it burned its way down. “Honestly? Not as unbearable as I expected,” I replied with a relaxed chuckle, letting the ambiance ease any lingering reservations.
Callie gasped dramatically, the theatrical shock almost causing their drink to tip over and spill a cascade of colors onto the bar. “Did I just hear Elliot Brooks confess he relishes attention?”
Suppressing a smile, I added with a smirk, “Let’s not get too carried away. It certainly doesn’t hurt when someone else takes most of the heat.”
As my words faded into the ambient hum of chatter and clinking glasses, my gaze wandered to Jules. There he was, vividly animated as he described an anecdote to our group, his laughter light and echoing through the room like a melody of pure delight. Catching my admiring glance, Jules winked mischievously before smoothly weaving through the swarm of patrons toward me.
“There you are,” Jules said, his voice blending warmth and playfulness as his hand casually rested on the small of my back. “The whiskey isn’t keeping you chained to the bar, is it?”
I chuckled in response, amusement dancing in my tone. “I’m pacing myself, Jules. Someone has to remain coherent in case you decide to outdo last week’s infamous karaoke performance.”
Jules’ eyes sparkled with mischief as he grinned, his presence a beacon of carefree charm. “That’s a bold assumption, Teach. But for now…” He gestured invitingly, extending a hand that promised both an escape and an adventure. “Dance with me.”
For a brief moment, I hesitated. My natural instinct to blend into the backdrop wrestled with the enticing warmth of his touch and the promise of shared exhilaration. Just as I was about to place my glass down in answer, Callie interjected with impeccable timing, the sound of their voice slicing through the moment as they slid off their stool with exaggerated flair.
“Hold it right there,” Callie declared, a mischievous grin tugging at their lips as they looped an arm affectionately around Jules’ shoulder. “Don’t wear him out too soon, I’m whisking you two away for a quieter soirée. My place awaits, with the comforts of good drinks, savory snacks, and absolutely no dance floor pressure.”
An eyebrow arched in playful challenge as Jules looked at Callie, amusement clearly etched on his face. “Are you saving him or me?”
Callie’s tone remained breezy and teasing as they replied, “Both, of course. Besides, I’m curious to see if the infamous Teach can hold his own in a conversation without the distraction of music, dazzling lights, and flamboyant drag queens.”
Jules glanced back at me, his hand still resting on my back as if to offer silent support, then turned back to Callie with a grin that promised mischief. “Fine. But you owe me a dance later.”
“Deal,” Callie responded with a wink, their eyes twinkling like playful stars. “Now, let’s make our escape before Jordy ropes you into another impromptu duet.”
And with that, the three of us slipped out of the Taproom, the night air cool and refreshing as it greeted us. Jules’ laughter trailed behind us like a lingering note, wrapping around our departure as we strolled toward Callie’s place, a promise of a quieter, more intimate adventure shimmering in the moonlight.
Later, at Callie’s apartment, the energy shifted from the frenetic energy of the Taproom to the cozy warmth of familiar camaraderie. Callie’s apartment was exactly what you’d expect from them: vibrant, eclectic, and full of personality. String lights zigzagged across the ceiling, casting a soft glow over the mismatched furniture. A well-worn beanbag chair claimed the center of the room like a throne, while a low coffee table was cluttered with half-empty glasses, a few takeout containers, and an impressive array of cocktail ingredients.
Callie, lounging luxuriously on their throne-like beanbag, took command of the room with animated flair. They regaled us with the latest episode of romantic misadventure, a dating disaster fraught with tangled text messages, a thoroughly bewildered florist, and an awkward encounter at the gym that unfolded like a scene from a madcap comedy. Their expressive gestures, wide eyes and theatrical chuckles, had everyone bursting into gleeful laughter, myself included.
“I mean, who sends ‘I had a great time last night’ to their yoga instructor by mistake?” Callie proclaimed, their arms flailing in an exaggerated display. “I don’t even do yoga!”
Perched on the arm of the sofa, drink in hand and exuding a playful nonchalance, Sam shook his head in feigned disbelief. “You’re a magnet for madness, Callie. It’s impressive, honestly.”
Beside me on the cozy couch, Jules reclined with his legs casually draped over mine, a quiet yet tender smile playing on his lips. Though his voice was soft and measured, every now and then, he interjected a witty remark that kept the contagious energy flowing effortlessly throughout the room.
With a mischievous glint in their eye, Callie pointed a glass at Jules. “You two really are the talk of the town,” they teased, a smile crossing their face as they gestured between us. “It’s kind of disgusting, honestly.”
Jules’s response was as playful as it was endearing; he grinned and lobbed a pillow in my direction. “Careful, or I’ll start charging you for this privilege.”
The pillow sailed humorously off course, landing near Ezra, who was seated cross-legged with a cold beer in hand. With a dramatic raise of his bottle in surrender, he remarked, “Collateral damage. I’m staying out of this.”
“Smart man,” Sam toasted, raising his drink high.
I shrugged, feeling the subtle shift of Jules’ legs as he adjusted his position next to me. My hand found its way onto his knee, a gesture both new in its intimacy and comfortingly familiar. “Good company helps,” I offered with a small, contented smile, meeting Callie’s amused gaze.
Leaning his head against my shoulder, Jules murmured warmly, “See? I’m a good influence.”
“Debatable,” I replied lightly, my tone laced with fond teasing as I squeezed his knee gently.
“Well, Teach,” Callie declared with a widening grin that lit up the room, “we’ve heard about Jules’ infamous karaoke antics, but it’s your turn. What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done in public?”
The question caught me off guard, yet the infectious laughter ringing around the room and the reassuring presence of Jules eased my apprehension. I took a measured sip of my whiskey, its warmth spreading through me like a quiet, fiery embrace. Blushing slightly, I began, “There was an incident back in college… Let’s just say I learned the hard way that debuting brand-new shoes for a presentation is a recipe for disaster.”
“Oh no,” interjected Ezra, his smile growing wider as he leaned forward, clearly relishing every detail. “What happened?”
“They squeaked,” I admitted, shaking my head in exasperated amusement. “Every step I took sent out a loud, unmistakable squeak, like a series of comic farts reverberating through the lecture hall. By the time I reached the podium, half the class was doubled over in uncontrollable laughter.”
The room exploded into a chorus of hearty laughter, even Jules joining in with that infectious mirth of his. “I would pay good money to see that,” he quipped, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Don’t give Callie any ideas,” I shot back with a playful smirk, gesturing toward our ever-entertaining host.
Callie, pretending to scribble in an invisible notebook, announced with mock solemnity, “Elliot: squeaky shoes. Got it.”
As the banter continued, the room became a tapestry of shared stories and teasing remarks, stitched together by the ease of friendship. Soon enough, Renzo and Avery joined our little circle, sliding onto the floor with freshly procured drinks. Quiet Renzo, ever the observant one, interjected occasionally with razor-sharp one-liners that left us all in peals of laughter, while the inquisitive Avery peppered me with rapid-fire questions about Jules, their tone half-serious, half-teasing.
“So, Teach,” Avery said, their voice carrying a playful gravitas, “what’s the most surprising thing you’ve learned about Jules since you two started dating?”
I glanced over at Jules, who raised a single, amused eyebrow in silent challenge. “That he can recite every single lyric from every ABBA song ever written,” I deadpanned, the statement humorous in its absurdity.
Jules feigned shock, swatting my arm in playful protest. “That’s not surprising, that’s a life skill,” he declared with a dramatic flourish.
Laughter swelled around the room once more, and I couldn’t help but savor the sweet rediscovery of my own mirth. The sound of my laughter felt both strange and wonderfully liberating, a liberation of a part of myself long obscured by routine.
As the night gracefully slipped into its quieter phase, the raucous laughter softened into intimate conversations. Jules stayed near, letting me share the spotlight with our trusted friends, his smile both soft and proud as he watched me weave through the discussions. At one point, I caught him gazing at me with an expression layered in both affection and something deeper, a moment so tender it nearly took my breath away.
By the time we finally stepped out of Callie’s apartment, the cool, crisp night air and the hushed serenity of the empty streets provided a quiet counterpoint to the warm glow inside. Jules slipped his hand into mine, his touch steady and reassuring. “You were great tonight,” he murmured softly, the compliment lingering in the space between us.
“So were you,” I replied in a nearly whispered tone, my voice carrying a gentle warmth.
In that quiet moment, beneath the soft glow of streetlights and the whisper of the night, I realized just how immeasurably important this little community, and especially Jules, had become in my life.